Desensitized
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: "When she returns to base that night, the officer in charge chuckles while she relies the mission without even flinching, and calls her the Red Room's very own little black widow. The nickname sticks." 13 year old Natasha is given her first undercover mission.


The file appears in her bedroom one morning. She spots it in her night stand as she wakes up before sunrise; ready to hit the gym and exercise for a solid 3 hours before breakfast. She expects it to be just another easy murder, but upon glancing at the pictures and the extensive research, immediately realizes its anything but. She's only 13, and she's been given her first solo undercover mission. It's an honor; she will probably be the youngest they've ever sent to get a job done. Natalia's had to murder people for the Red Room before, ever since she was 9. But tonight will be different. Her target Sergey Ivankov , her mission, gather information on a transaction that was to happen tomorrow, _then_ eliminate him.

Nobody that messes with the Russian mafia makes it out alive, especially when they pay the Red Room for their services. So later that day, she's prettied up by some of the older girls, the ones who were never sufficiently good, not skilled enough or beautiful enough for this (in the quiet of her own mind, she can ask herself if that's a blessing or a curse).

They put her in a dress and repaint her face with make up; enhancing her green eyes and pale complexion. The dress they zip her into is black and tight, drawing attention to her tiny waist and contrasting with her hair. The thigh holster with a dagger is safely hidden behind the ruffles. She straps on some high, delicate heels that her 5'2 frame needs to stand out. At the end, she looks a bit older, but not much; she doesn't think it will matter anyway. Her target is a part time politician, more of a mobster and a drug dealer and would be quite eager to overlook the fact that her body is just starting to take the shape of a woman.

When she enters the ball, most eyes are on her. _ Interesting,_ they seem to say,_ a new, shiny toy_. But she plainly ignores the rest of the room and focuses on her target. She finds Ivankov easy enough, in the center of the room, all the attention and fake laughter drawn onto him. She can pinpoint every single mistake these people vying for his attention are making; too forced a giggle from a tall, blonde woman. The hand on his shoulder from an overly confident businessman trying to climb the social ladder. Ivankov doesn't like to be touched by men, she learned from his file. Some childhood sob story she can't be bothered paying attention to. She was too focused on his weaknesses. Money, expensive sports cars, gambling and of course, pretty women. Like the dozens hanging around him, fighting for his undivided attention.

She, unlike them, has been trained for this her whole life, and there isn't space to make mistakes. So after assessing the situation, she goes in for the kill. It's easy enough to draw his attention, just walking in front of him, taking a pin out her high bun and letting her red hair cascade down her shoulders like fire. She knows he's staring, can't feel his predatory eyes on her back. The way she's been used to from men ever since she was 11 and a red room soldier sneaked into her room at night. But tonight, what would usually disgust her will serve to her advantage. She looks over her shoulder, and sure enough, his black eyes are hungrily running over her. With a bat of her eyelashes (that she's perfected with practice) and a beckoning smile, he walks straight towards her not 5 minutes later.

They talk, or rather he does. Boasts of his money and power, and she laughs and giggles at the perfect moments, answers his seldom questions with a perfect american accent that has him believing she really is just another silly tourist girl, lucky to be in his presence. And later, when he's just buzzed enough that he'll spill anything in a clouded moment of passion, she coaxes him into taking her to a bedroom. What follows it's sweaty and uncomfortable. But it's also necessary and she's in control this time, that making all the difference in the world.

She's on top, and it doesn't disgust her as much as it should, to screw him. She's desensitized. And this awful technique she was taught, it works flawlessly. Ivankov tells her every single thing; too buzzed and on a high of endorphins to care, or even think about what he's blurting to a barely-teenage girl. And at the end, when he's outlived his usefulness, she takes pleasure in slitting his throat.

When she returns to base that night, the high ranking officer in charge chuckles while she relies the mission without so much as flinching, and calls her the Red Room's very own little black widow. The nickname sticks.

* * *

**a/n: Just a little something I wrote really fast. I'm obsessed with Natasha's life before working for SHIELD. Review and let me know what you think! **


End file.
